Forgotten
by Purple Uranium
Summary: When he dreams, he remembers. -oneshot-


**Title: **Forgotten

**Rating:** PG - 13****

**Summary:** When he dreams, he remembers. 

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters of Inuyasha.

**Spoilers:** Through _Episode 50:_ _The Face That Doesn't Fade From My Heart_

**Author's Notes:** This little idea actually came to me when I was reading **Forsaken Prey** by **Ayrith** [story ID: 1792462]. And, this is in fact, my shameless plug of the day. So yes, you should go read it because it's done really well. Even if you aren't a Kouga fan I think that you would enjoy it very, very much.

**Warnings:** Gore, Kohaku-centric, Kohaku-sufferitis

*

*

*

*

It was freezing, seeping slowly through his being like a thick molasses, sticking to every contour of his body.

It was sinking to his bones, causing them to go stiff – causing his joints to crack and snap in pain. It was burning at the tips of his fingers like an icy flame, dousing his mind in his presence, making him numb and immune to pain. And it nipped at his body, creating wounds, breaking through the barriers of flesh, smiling maliciously at the rivulets of crimson that spilled over the once beautiful ivory surface. And his beautiful russet eyes had turned glassy – unseeing – as it swept through his body, pinching and pulling on his nerves, causing his body to convulse in pain, only to stop in a burning, freezing numbness.

It was his cruelty raining down on him, poisoning his mind, attempting to call him back – attempting to break him.

But as the icy snow crunched under his feet, he knew that he couldn't let it, he knew that he couldn't allow the cold presence in the back of his mind to get the best of him. He had to escape from it's sharp talons curling around his skin and tearing through the soft tender flesh – he had to escape from the poisons drowning him in sorrow and despair. He had to escape from the torture – from the frigid coolness trapping him beneath his burning stare.

So he couldn't answer his call; he couldn't allow the fierce hunger within him to take grasp of his soul, twisting and pulling until he screamed in pain – his face contorting in agony, blood streaming from his slick wounds as tears streamed down his face.

Because he _remembered_.

He remembered what had been said – what they had done to protect him from it – and he would not allow their wishes to fall upon deaf ears.

Because he remembered the pain in her eyes as she looked at him – he remembered the way her warm lithe body wrapped around his, tears of happiness streaming from her eyes. But he could also remember the pain resonating within those tears – he could remember how they weren't only meant for happiness – that she was expressing two emotions at once. 

Because he _couldn't_ remember.

And he could feel her warmth still, taking precedence over the icy darkness descending within every contour of his mind, trying to fill that empty hole of doubt resonating within him. Causing his heart to clench in pain.

And it hurt. 

Because he couldn't remember.

Because he didn't _want_ to remember.

But he had to find her. He had to know what it was that caused her to weep for him – to shed tears and blood just to protect him. Just so someone as tainted and corrupted as he was could live. He didn't understand her. And part of him didn't want to understand her. But the other part of him – it remembered how warm she felt against his frigid skin; it remembered how she echoed with familiarity within the gaping hole of emptiness that resonated within his mind. It caused an ache to rupture deep within him slowly spreading throughout his body – causing his nerves to pinch and pull in pain. And that feeling settled over him, bringing him a sorrow so agonizing – he couldn't help but want to run away from it – to escape that familiar feeling that continually settled over his aching heart whenever he thought about her.

Because he could remember her tears as she held him down, that silver blade positioned above his chest, ready to slice through the thin layers of flesh that protected his heart.

A heart that was no longer his.

A heart that was filled with her presence, and attacked by his darkness.

Because both of them were after him, one seeking happiness, the other seeking power, and he had to escape from it no matter what he did.

He had to escape from the poisons burning deep within lungs, churning within his stomach – causing a bitter taste to dance around on his tongue and bile to rise in his throat. 

He had to escape the happiness that she was trying to give him – the memories that she was attempting to salvage. Because the boy knew that all it would do was bring him pain – cause him to suffer once more.

He wasn't safe with either of them

Because they both caused him pain.

From the emptiness – from the chance to fill that emptiness.

Because he didn't want to remember.

And he hated that.

Because he knew that he should have been seeking those memories – the familiar feeling of kindness and love that he used to bask in – that used to be his anchor. But now, all he could do was run. From both the solitude and the emptiness, hoping that his memories never descended upon his mind. Hoping that the emptiness never managed to reach his heart – to burn a hole through the loneliness. Because then his master would win, and he didn't want that to happen.

He simply wanted to be alone.

He wanted to be able to make his own memories, wanted to be able to live his own life.

And he knew that he would never be able to do that if they both wanted him – attempting to mold him into what they wanted him to be.

But part of him knew that he couldn't escape them either.

Because no matter what he did, her face would forever stay etched in his heart, causing that aching loneliness to rise within his heart once again, begging for that same warmth – that same familiarity.

But he knew that his master would do whatever it took to keep him from finding that familiarity once again.

Because his master wanted him to remain drifting through that dark void, pain stabbing at every contour of his body, causing blood to seep from the unhealed wounds.

Because seeing everyone in pain _pleased_ his master.

But he wouldn't stop running – he wouldn't let them both get to him – to take control of his life.

He wouldn't let his master keep him from remembering, and he wouldn't allow her to help him remember.

And he could see the snow stained with his blood as his skin cracked, turning it a deadly crimson on the beautiful ice. And he could feel his throat tightening in pain as he continued to walk, the smell of poison burning his lungs.

He could feel his fingers burning, his chest tightening, and he could hear his voice radiating within his mind, calling him back. Ordering him to obey.

The fire within him rose, hot flames licking at his back as he continued to run, the stench of blood rising around him. And he could see the images flashing through his mind, causing him to scream in pain.

He could see them all dying, his blade stained crimson with the lifeblood of his people, and it was causing his heart to break in two. Causing tears to run down his face.

And the void within his heart, it continued to grow, threatening to swallow him whole – leaving him buried under a myriad of memories, each of them more painful than the next, causing his scream to rip through the icy coldness of desolation.

And then he sees her, calling his name, reaching out to grab him, to hold him in her arms once more.

And he sees the tears of pain spilling down her face.

Part of him wants to comfort her, to let her know that he didn't mean it.

But the blood will continuously stain his blade, unable to wash away under the strength of his tears, under the sorrowful guilt that resonated within him.

And slowly, he could feel himself slipping into that icy darkness as the pain exploded in his chest, his own crimson blood spilling down his torso as she ran towards him, screaming his name once more.

Because he killed them.

He killed them _all._

The people he loved – the people he called his family.

And then, his back is on fire, and he can feel his master calling to him, ordering him back.

But he can't wake up from his horrible nightmare – he can't escape the truth.

And as the sweat drips down his body, causing his clothes to stick to his lithe form – his eyes fluttering open to welcome the icy darkness – to breathe in the sickening stench of his masters miasma, the memory slowly fades into nothingness.

But as his master's eyes continue to burn into his own, his talons slowly wrapping around his body, puncturing the tender flesh, that same cold pleased smile spreading across his face, he knows that he cannot escape. He knows that his master has marked him, and will not let him escape.

His long ivory fingers reach out, looking strangely pale against the crimson blood spilling down the boys face, and it hurts.

It hurts him because he knows that he is owned, and that he cannot escape.

That he cannot remember.

But his master knows.

He knows that when he sleeps, he dreams. 

And when he dreams, he remembers.

'You belong to me,' His master whispered maliciously before leaving him in the cold dark room, blood slowly pooling around his body, leaving him cold and pale. 

And he does.

Because he has no other choice.

Because his back continues to burn and that emptiness will continuously resonate within his being.

But his heart belongs to her.

His sister.

His anchor.

His memories.

His past.

_Sango._


End file.
